


What If?

by bookwormgir1LH (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Asexual Harry Potter, Crying, Dark, Domestic Violence, Friendship, Good Slytherins, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Physical Abuse, Post Mpreg, Slytherin Harry, St Mungo's Hospital, Voldemort is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bookwormgir1LH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Voldermort really did die that night in Godric's Hollow? What if Ron and Draco were brothers? What if Hermione was a Ravenclaw? What if Harry was a Slytherin? What if Arthur and Lucius were together? What if Remus and Sirius were Hermione's parents? What if Fred and George were in different houses? What if male wizards could get pregnant? What if, what if, what if . . .?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

“Come along, come along, it’s this way.”

“Are we going to get to platform nine and three quarters in time, Papa?”

“Of course we will, darling, as long as Fred and George stop messing about.”

“Hey, what’ve we done?”

Harry, on the verge of tears he was so worried, felt a rush of relief as he heard voices talking about the very place he was trying to find. He turned his head, and saw a gaggle of children and teenagers making their way through King’s Cross station. They were all pushing trolleys and carrying owls, and he smiled, knowing they were obviously witches and wizards too. He began to follow after them, trying not to act like a stalker.

They all had light ginger hair, and were being led along by a stressed looking man with thinning, bright red hair. It was obvious which parent the children got their hair from. He followed them onto platform nine, and, when they stopped, he stopped too, a little way away from them, and listened.

“Are you all ready?” The man asked the kids, looking up at the clock.

Now he was closer, Harry saw the man was sporting a black eye behind his glasses.

“Um, excuse me, sir,” he said, coming right up to the man. When he spotted him, he smiled broadly.

“Hello, there, are you lost?”

Harry smiled weakly. “A bit, yeah. Can you show me how to get to platform nine and three quarters?”

“Yes, of course. It’s Ron and Draco’s first time at Hogwarts too.” He said, gesturing to the youngest boys.

They both were the same height, but looked completely different, the one on the left having his hair gelled flat to his head, and the one on the right having a wild mob of messy curls that looked just as unruly as Harry’s own hair. They both smiled at him, one looking embarrassed, the other looking nervous.

“Percy!” He called to the oldest looking boy, who had a badge with a P on it pinned to his robes. “Can you show our friend here how to get through the barrier?”

Percy smiled, nodded, and lined his trolley up, his owl screeching. Then he ran full pelt at the barrier. Harry tensed up, expecting Percy to crash and hurt himself, but, to his amazement, he disappeared through the barrier as though the wall wasn’t solid brick.

“What on Earth?” Harry gasped.

The man was smiling at him.

“Right, now Fred, you go.”

Fred moved towards the barrier. “I’m George. Honestly, man, you’ve had thirteen years to learn the difference.”

“Sorry, George.”

“Only joking, I am Fred,” He smiled cheekily, and set off towards the barrier. He disappeared too. He was followed a few seconds later by the real George, who was still giggling at his brother’s joke.

“Right then, Ron and Draco, you go next.”

The two boys looked nervous, and ran at the barrier as fast as they could, disappearing through the bricks. Harry was left with the man and a younger girl he hadn’t noticed before. She was staring at him.

“Do you want to go through with me and Ginny?” He asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes please. Um . . . can I ask what your name is?”

He chuckled. “Of course you can. I should have told you sooner. I’m Arthur Weasley.”

“I’m Harry Potter.”

Mr Weasley’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled.

“Well, then, Harry, let’s get you through the barrier before you miss the train.”

Ginny climbed onto her father’s back, and Harry walked slowly towards the barrier with Mr Weasley beside him. He closed his eyes, and, when he opened them, he was on a totally different platform. Harry gasped, amazed at the sight before him. He stared, open mouthed at the red steam train and the witches and wizards covering the platform. He had never seen a steam train before; it was nothing like the truly awful trains he had been forced to take with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

“I know,” Mr Weasley said softly. “I was like that when I saw this for the first time. It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded, struggling to find anything to say. Ginny, on the other hand, had plenty to say.

“Are you sure I can’t go with them, Papa?” She whined, staring wistfully at the beautiful train.

Mr Weasley shook his head. “Not until next year, darling.”

Ginny huffed, and Mr Weasley chuckled, obviously used to this by now. But it made Harry feel a little sad to watch what was so obviously a happy family interact, because he had never experienced the sort of connection Mr Weasley and Ginny had, because no one had ever cared about him.

\---

In the hustle and bustle that followed, Harry lost sight of Mr Weasley, and all of his children too. He wheeled the trunk towards the train as all of the doors swung open, listening to hoards of parents telling the children to get on the bloody train or they weren’t going to get to the bloody school at all. He managed to get onto the train just as it was beginning to move, and was relieved when someone helped him haul his trunk up behind him. He turned around, and saw his helper was one of the twins (either Fred or George) he had met a few minutes earlier.

For the first time, Harry noticed that Fred was wearing a red and gold striped scarf around his neck. He smiled weakly.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problemo, mate,” Fred said, smiling cheekily. “Now, just a tip, but I’d try and get a carriage before they all go, or you might end up sharing with someone really weird or annoying.”

“What, like you, you mean?” George yelled from inside the nearest carriage, which was full of other boys who looked the same age as the twins.

“Shut your face!” Fred yelled, giggling, flinging open the door to the carriage and pointing his wand at George’s face. Harry noticed that George was wearing a green and silver striped scarf.

Breathing heavily, Harry turned and began to wander down the train, occasionally glancing into carriages that looked half empty, but nobody would let him in. He sighed, wondering if he was ever going to find a seat.

“Hey, you, the boy with the glasses, over here!” Ron yelled from halfway down the train, sticking his head out of a carriage.

After checking that there was no one behind him, Harry beamed and ran down the train until he reached Ron, who stepped aside and let him into the carriage. Draco was sat by the window, a toad in his lap. Ron sat down beside him. Harry sat down opposite the brothers, relieved to finally have a seat.

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.”

Draco looked up at him. “What was your name again?”

“I didn’t tell you. It’s Harry Potter.”

The brothers stared at him with wide eyes, but, just like their father, they didn’t say anything. And, for that, Harry was immensely grateful.

Harry smiled at the two boys, wondering if he was making his first ever friends.

\---

Over an hour later, when they were tucking into a huge stack of sweets from the trolley, Harry found himself wanting to know more about Ron and Draco.

Once he had swallowed the chocolate in his mouth, he asked, “So . . . what does your dad do?”

“Papa’s the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts,” Ron said, his mouth crammed with chocolate.

Draco raised his eyebrows. “He’s obsessed with Muggles. He likes to collect Muggle things and just study them. Don’t see the fascination myself, but there you go.”

Harry was glad to know that he would be meeting Mr Weasley again. He seemed to be such a nice person.

“What about your mum?” Harry asked. “What does she do?”

Ron and Draco looked at each other, frowning slightly. Harry felt like he was being left out of something important.

“What?”

Ron sighed, as though he was preparing himself for an inevitable, bad response. “We don’t have a mum.”

Harry smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry, both my parents are dead, so I don’t have a mum either.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco said, turning a chocolate frog box over and over in his fingers. He sighed too. “Look, Potter, we have two fathers.”

“Well, that’s not a problem,” Harry said, wondering why they were worrying; wizards must have been far less liberal than Muggles. “One of the boys in my class at my Muggle school was adopted by a gay couple, and no one seemed to mind.”

That was a lie – the boy was bullied terribly by everyone apart from Harry – but he wasn’t going to tell Ron and Draco that.

“No,” Draco said. “I mean we have two biological dads.”

Harry gasped. He had never heard anything so bizarre in all his life.

“H-How?”

Ron frowned. “Are you sure you’re a wizard, mate? Because you don’t seem to know much about wizards, does he, Draco?”

“I didn’t know I was a wizard until my birthday,” Harry said, a little offended. “My relatives kept me from knowing about my parents and the whole wizarding world.”

“Well, that explains it. So do you really not know that male wizards can get pregnant?”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Draco muttered.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“So . . . could I get pregnant when I was older?”

Draco nodded as Ron smiled. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Potter. If you’re a wizard, you can get pregnant, end of story.”

For some reason, this conversation was beginning to feel incredibly awkward. Harry tried to think of something else, so he could change the subject. Thankfully, something came to him.

“Why were your brothers wearing different coloured scarves?”

“Fred and George are in different houses.” Ron said, looking glad that the subject had changed.

“Houses?” Harry frowned.

Draco rolled his eyes, but, to Harry’s relief, he didn’t say anything cruel.

Draco and Ron explained the whole idea of four different houses that the students at Hogwarts were sorted into. He quickly learned that there was a lot of rivalry between the four houses (Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff).

“What houses do you two want to be in?”

“Well,” Ron said. “Papa was a Gryffindor when he went to Hogwarts, and Dad was a Slytherin. Our whole family is split between the two houses, so probably one of those two.”

“Our older brothers, Bill and Charlie were in Gryffindor when they were at Hogwarts. And now George and Percy are in Slytherin, and Fred is in Gryffindor.”

“Aren’t Fred and George twins?” Harry asked, frowning.

Draco nodded. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you two twins?”

He nodded again. “Yes, but, obviously, we’re not identical.”

“Do you think you’ll end up in the same house?”

Draco and Ron looked at each other.

“We don’t know,” Ron finally said.

But Harry could tell that they actually did. And he didn’t blame them; it must be horrible to be split up from your twin. Not that he would know, of course.

\---

An hour later, they all looked up when a girl stuck her head around the door. She had wild, bushy hair, and an anxious expression on her face.

“Would it be all right if I sat in here with you?” She asked.

Harry looked at Ron and Draco, and nodded his head. “Sure, if you want.”

“Thanks,” she sat down beside Harry, smiling. “The carriage I was in was so busy. It looks much more peaceful in here. I’m Hermione Lupin-Black,” she said, holding her hand out for Harry to shake.

“I’m Harry Potter,” he said, shaking her hand back, slightly bemused by the very formal action.

“Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?”

Harry sighed. “Yes . . . Can we not talk about me being famous, please?”

“Sorry,” Hermione said. “I guess you must be sick of it by now?”

Harry nodded, and Hermione smiled sympathetically. She held out her hand to Draco.

“Draco Malfoy-Weasley,” he said. “This is my twin brother Ron.”

Hermione shook each of their hands in turn, smiling at them both. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. So, are you three excited about starting at Hogwarts? I personally can’t wait. I’ve been waiting for years.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Ron said. “It’s all our brothers have ever talked about, so it’ll be nice to not be left out for once.”

“What about you, Harry?”

He wasn’t sure. But he had to admit that he was glad to be going to a place where he wasn’t going to be an outcast for once. “Yeah,” he said, a bit flatly. “It’s going to be great.”

\---

By the time they arrived at the castle, Harry was shivering violently, his robes soaked in water after his ride across the lake. Draco was muttering about how their journey across the lake was totally unnecessary, and Harry was inclined to agree with him. As they climbed the stairs, Harry listened to Ron and Hermione talking about her father, who, apparently, was a single parent, although she didn’t know where her other dad was, because he wasn’t dead. Harry wondered how many more kids at Hogwarts had two dads.

At the top of the stairs, they met a prim looking witch, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house. She explained that she was going to lead them into the Great Hall, and that they would be sorted into their houses. Harry looked at Ron, Draco and Hermione, and they all looked just as anxious as Harry felt.

 

As they entered the Great Hall, Harry saw Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy sat at the professors’ table. Ron and Draco both gave them subtle waves as they passed him, and Harry smiled at Mr Weasley.

After a lot of talking, the sorting began. Harry quickly got bored, only becoming interested when he heard Hermione’s name.

“Hermione Lupin-Black!” Professor McGonagall called. Hermione smiled at Harry and went and sat on the stool.

The hat sat on Hermione’s head for all of three seconds before yelling out, “RAVENCLAW!”

She beamed, practically skipping as she got to her feet and went and sat on the end of the Ravenclaw table. Harry felt a little sad now he knew he was going to be split up with Hermione, as she seemed like such a nice (if a bit annoying) person. Harry zoned out, until he heard a name that he recognised.

“Draco Malfoy-Weasley!”

The Sorting Hat spent over a minute with Draco, as though it couldn’t make up its mind, before bellowing out: “SLYTHERIN!”

Draco beamed at Harry, and moved to sit beside George and Percy on the Slytherin table, who clapped him on the back and cheered along with the whole table.

“Ron Malfoy-Weasley!”

The hat didn’t spend as much time on Ron, and, only about ten seconds later, the hat had made up its mind.

“GRYFFINDOR!” It yelled.

Harry saw the twins look at each other for a few seconds, as though they were speaking in a secret, nonverbal language, before Ron went and joined Fred on the Gryffindor table. Harry wasn’t sure what to think. He hated that all his new friends were getting split up. He zoned out again, trying not to think about it.

And then his own name was called.

“Harry Potter!”

To Harry’s horror, the room filled with whispers, and he groaned. He sat down on the stool, and Professor McGonagall put the hat onto his head. It slipped down over his eyes, and he heard the hat making noises like it was deliberating. He didn’t know which house he wanted to be in, to be honest, and that only seemed to make the hat more confused.

Finally, it yelled out its answer, and Harry had a feeling that this decision was going to change his life forever.

“SLYTHERIN!”


	2. Chapter 2

Now in his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter raced into his Muggle Studies classroom, cursing himself for being late. At the front of the room, Professor Weasley turned around from writing on the chalkboard and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Harry, everyone else is late too.”

Indeed, as Harry walked to his seat and the front of the room, he noticed that there was only one other student in the room. As he sat down and pulled his essay (‘Discuss the purpose of television in the life of the modern muggle’) out of his bag, he looked back up at Professor Weasley, and saw he had a bruise on his chin. He didn’t ask how he had gotten it; this happened a lot, and Professor Weasley always explained away his injuries as him being clumsy, which was probably true, considering how much he tripped over his robes when he was walking around the castle.

“Why are they late?”

Professor Weasley shrugged. “I think they’re all looking at the Goblet of Fire.”

Harry sighed. Everyone he knew was obsessed with that thing, but he really couldn’t care less. He wondered if he should tell Professor Weasley about Fred and George’s plan to get their names into the cup, but he assumed he already knew. Professor Weasley always seemed to be at least one step ahead of Fred and George, much to their irritation.

\---

Arriving in his Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom a few minutes early, Harry was surprised to find that there were only two other students in the room – even Professor Malfoy wasn’t here yet. Harry slipped into his usual seat beside Draco, and grinned at him. Draco looked around to check no one was looking at them, and then took Harry’s hand under the table and squeezed it tight. Harry smiled.

He and Draco had been going out for a year now, and, surprisingly it was working out. Harry was pretty sure he was asexual, but Draco was fine with it, and was happy to take things slow. So, whilst they hadn’t done anything more than kissing, Harry knew their relationship was stable. Still, Draco wasn’t comfortable with them being out in public, and to be honest, Harry kept worrying that the Dursleys might somehow find out if he came out, so any displays of affection were kept to a minimum.

But Draco’s dads knew about their relationship, and they seemed to be fine with it. To be honest, Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy had seemed more shocked that Percy was dating Oliver Wood, the former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and even more shocked to learn that Ron was going out with Hermione. Unlike his and Draco’s relationship, Harry didn’t think it was going to last. Ron and Hermione just seemed to irritate each other.

\---

“Hey, Harry, look at this!”

Harry looked up from his breakfast as Hermione hurtled across the hall, carrying a letter. Draco, who had been falling asleep beside him, suddenly jerked awake, his elbow slipping off of the edge of the table.

“What’s going on?” He said blearily, rubbing his eyes.

Hermione sat down next to George and opposite Harry, flailing the letter around in the air. She looked so excited. “My dad’s being released from prison!”

“What?” Harry said, feeling just as dopy as Draco. He knew that Sirius, one of Hermione’s dads, was in Azkaban for a murder that everyone was pretty certain he hadn’t done, but he had never expected him to be released. Nobody ever got released from Azkaban.

“He’s finally been acquitted. He’s getting out on Sunday!”

Hermione suddenly hugged George, causing Lee Jordan to stand up and yell from the other side of the hall, “Hey, get off of my boyfriend!” This rather odd sight caused Hermione to burst into hysterical laughter; Draco looked totally bemused. Harry smiled.

“That’s great, Hermione.” He said, but his voice came out a bit flat. Hermione didn’t seem to notice.

He wasn’t sure why, but at times like this, he found himself feeling a bit jealous of his friends, because they had families, but he was an orphan. Still, he tried to feel glad for Hermione, and, as he looked at his friends and his boyfriend, he knew that, even though he didn’t have any parents, he was in no way alone.

\---

One night, Harry was strolling down a corridor when he heard a noise that made him stop dead. He could hear what sounded like a man crying. He followed the noise, and came to Professor Malfoy’s office. Then he heard what sounded like a slap through the closed door, and he winced.

“Please, Luicius, I’m sorry!” A man cried, sounding totally hysterical. It took Harry a few seconds to realise that it was Professor Weasley’s voice that he was hearing. What on Earth was going on?

“You fucking idiot, Arthur, you ruined everything. You always ruin everything.” Professor Malfoy yelled, and Harry heard another loud thud.

“I fink you bwoke my nose!” Professor Weasley cried thickly, his voice suddenly sounding like he had a cold. Harry imagined blood pouring from his nose, and he grimaced.

“Good!”

Another thump, and then a loud thud as Professor Weasley obviously fell over.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry—” THUD! “—Isn’t—” THUD! “—Good—” THUD! “—Enough!” Professor Malfoy yelled, presumably hitting or kicking his partner with every word.

Professor Weasley started making a whimpering noise, reminding him of a wounded dog.

Harry felt sick. He thought about the bruises and cuts he always saw on Professor Weasley’s face, and realised that his partner must have caused the injuries. Before he could stop himself, he tried the door handle, wanting to stop this happening, but it was locked. Of course it was locked.

“Who’s there?” Professor Malfoy called, and Harry heard footsteps over the sound of Professor Weasley’s crying. His heart started racing, and he let go of the door handle like it was red hot.

Even though he felt awful, Harry spun on his heels and ran as fast as he could, speeding through to school and at one point running straight through the Fat Friar. He ran until he reached the common room, and then leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Once he had his breath back, he went and found Draco and George, and dragged them by the front of their robes into his and Draco’s dormitory. It was thankfully empty.

“What’s up with you?” George asked as soon as Harry had closed the door.

Harry paused, trying to catch his breath and wondering how he was going to tell them. He wondered if they knew, or how they were going to react if they didn’t.

“What’s the matter, Potter?” Draco said, frowning.

Harry decided to just be blunt, something he was actually very good at. “I just heard your dad beating up your other dad.”

“What?” Draco gasped. He obviously didn’t know.

Harry swallowed hard, wishing he could stop feeling so sick. “Mr Weasley was crying and I kept hearing what I think was Mr Malfoy hitting him. It was horrible.”

“I don’t believe it,” Draco said slowly, like he was in a daze. “You must’ve made a mistake. That can’t be true.”

Harry was about to argue the toss with Draco, wishing his boyfriend wasn’t always so bloody stubborn, when George surprised him.

“No,” George said, his voice soft. “It’s true.”

“What? Dad hit Papa?” Draco said. George nodded slowly, looking like he was dangerously close to bursting into tears. Harry put his arm around Draco.

George sighed and rested his head against the wall. He heaved in a shuddering sigh. His eyes were shining.

“Dad used to hit Papa when we were very, very young,” he said. Draco’s eyes widened but he didn’t speak; Harry wasn’t sure if he could speak. “Ron and Draco and Ginny would have been too young to remember, but, when me and Fred were four, he started hitting Papa. He used to cry. And Bill and Charlie and Percy would go up to him after Dad had gone out and just hug him. I saw him once; his face was all swollen and he was crying hysterically. It was horrible. He stopped when Bill got old enough to stand up to him, and we thought it was over. But now . . .”

Something suddenly came to Harry, a memory of his first ever time at Draco’s house, just after he and George had come to rescue him from the Dursleys in their father’s flying car.

_“You do know, Arthur,” Mr Malfoy said as Mr Weasley sat down between Harry and Percy, not seeming to notice that Harry was there. “That our sons flew halfway across the country last night in that awful car of yours.”_

_Mr Weasley smiled and patted Draco on the shoulder. “How did it go?”_

_As they all laughed, Mr Malfoy suddenly slapped Mr Weasley across the back of the head. Mr Weasley grimaced and let out a hiss of pain, and Harry winced._

_“Don’t encourage them!”_

_“Sorry, Lucius,” Mr Weasley mumbled, rubbing the back of his head._

_He smiled as he said it, but it didn’t sound like they were joking. Harry looked at Fred, George and Percy, and saw that their smiles were rather forced, as though they didn’t find it funny. Draco, Ron and Ginny (who had just walked into the kitchen), however, seemed to think it was only a joke, that Mr Malfoy hadn’t hit Mr Weasley as hard as it had looked. And, Harry thought, they must have been right._

But, now, Harry wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling he had witnessed another example of the obvious domestic violence in the Malfoy-Weasley household.

George looked away, blinking back tears. “This is bad. This is really, really bad.”

“Fucking hell,” Draco said. “I can’t believe it. Why has no one ever told me!?” Draco was suddenly yelling, and grabbed the front of George’s robes as he started to shake his older brother, seething with sudden anger unlike anything Harry had ever seen.

“Get off of him, Draco!” Harry yelled, grabbing Draco around the waist. He pulled him backwards, and Draco stopped resisting. He relaxed in Harry’s grip and slumped to the floor, covering his face with his hands.

“You were too young,” George said thickly, sitting down beside his younger brother. “You were too young to understand it, not that me and Fred did, but that’s not the point. And then, by the time it had stopped, at least when we thought it had stopped, I think Papa just wanted to pretend it had never happened, so that’s why no one ever told you.”

“We need to tell the others,” Draco said through his hands. “Ron and Ginny need to know. You can’t keep them in the dark too."

“We need to find Papa first,” George corrected him. “He’ll need to go to the hospital wing. We can worry about Fred and Ron and Ginny later. He was in Dad’s office, wasn’t he, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” George said, smiling weakly. “Let’s go.”

They all got to their feet and headed off in search of Professor Weasley. Part of Harry didn’t want to find him, because, judging by what he had heard, he was sure he was going to look dreadful.

They made their way to the DADA office, but it was empty. It looked tidy as well, even though Harry was sure the filing cabinet had fallen over, and they began to wonder where Professor Malfoy had gone. But then Harry decided he didn’t care about Professor Malfoy, and just wished they could find his partner.

Eventually, they found Professor Weasley in his own office, sitting on the edge of his desk. He was holding his handkerchief to his nose, but blood was soaking though it. He had a black eye behind his cracked glasses, and a cut above his eyebrow, which was slowly oozing blood into his other eye. His arm was sticking out at a funny angle, and Harry had a feeling it was broken. When he saw Draco and George (he didn’t seem to notice Harry) his eyes widened and he jumped, and then he winced as though the action caused him pain.

“Papa, what happened?” Draco said, sitting down beside him. George sat on his other side, staring at his bleeding face.

“I fell and hit my face on the desk in your Dad’s office,” Professor Weasley said, looking from side to side as he tried to talk to both his son at once, his words sounding fake and heavily rehearsed. “I landed funny and I think I might’ve broken my arm. I really am a clumsy sod sometimes.” He tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing anyone.

“Papa,” George said softly. “We know.”

There was a very long pause before Professor Weasley spoke, and Harry could see the panic on his face.

“What?” He finally said, his voice thick thanks to his nosebleed. “What’re you talking about?”

“We know it was Dad who hurt you. It wasn’t an accident.”

“Yes it was.”

Draco sighed shakily. “No, it wasn’t. Harry heard.”

For the first time, Professor Weasley saw Harry was in the room. If it was possible, he suddenly looked even more scared. He looked up at Harry, and his jaw dropped slightly. He looked, for a few seconds, like he was going to burst into tears, but then his face set in a firm expression, and, when he spoke, his thick and shaky voice was remarkably calm.

“What?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I heard Professor Malfoy swearing and calling you names, and you crying and these noises like he was kicking you.”

“You don’t understand, Harry,” Professor Weasley said in an eerily calm tone of voice, trying to smile but actually just grimacing.

He took the handkerchief away from his face for the first time, showing them that his nose was bent to the side and his lips and chin were coated in congealing blood. When he saw their horrified faces, he covered it again.

“So what happened then, Papa?” Draco yelled. “A table couldn’t do all of that to your face!”

Professor Weasley flinched, but he didn’t say anything.

“He’s doing again, isn’t he?” George said. Professor Weasley turned his head and pulled a face like he was pretending not to listen to his sons. Harry sighed, watching Draco sigh.

“Come on, Papa,” George said firmly. “We need to take you to the medical wing.”

“No, you don’t understand, I can’t!” He snapped, sounding terrified, trying to stand up. But as soon as he was on his feet, he stumbled dizzily, his eyes going unfocused. His legs were wobbling, and his face, if possible, had gone even whiter.

“Papa?” Draco said, standing up too.

“He’s fainting,” Harry said, remembering his first aid lessons at his muggle school.

Sure enough, Professor Weasley’s knees buckled, and George and Harry had to grab hold of him to stop his head banging against his desk. They lowered him to the floor, Harry cradling his head. As his fingers dug into Professor Weasley’s hair, Harry felt his fingertips graze several long, thin ridges on his scalp. He shivered when he realised they were scars, and quickly let go of his head, making it thump against the floor. Harry quickly checked he was still breathing, and shifted his broken arm so he wasn’t laying on it.

“What should we do?” George asked, kneeling down beside him.

“Don’t move him. I’ll go get Madame Pomfrey.” Harry said, getting to his feet.

“Please be quick,” Draco said, reaching out and touching his father’s hand.

Flashing Draco a quick, sympathetic smile, Harry ran out of the office. He raced through the school, and, by the time he got to the hospital wing, he was horribly out of breath.

“Potter!” Madame Pomfrey said, looking up from a hospital bed with an irritated expression on her face. “What are you doing?”

“Professor Weasley’s hurt,” he said, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. “He’s bleeding and I think his arm’s broken. When he tried to stand up, he fainted.”

To his amazement, Madame Pomfrey didn’t ask any questions, and hurried along with him as he led her back to the office. He had learned by now that she tended not to ask how people got hurt, and most students at Hogwarts were immensely grateful for this.

When they got back to the office, she kneeled down beside Professor Weasley and looked closely at the injures on his face and his contorted arm, and looked up at the three boys.

“I presume this is another of his ‘accidents’?” She said, making quote marks in the air. Harry met Draco’s eyes, and watched his boyfriend gulp.

“You mean . . . you know?” George said.

“You mean I know that Professor Weasley keeps getting hurt in oddly suspicious circumstances and comes to me for treatment?”

George nodded, blinking rapidly. Harry put his arm around Draco’s shoulders.

“Then yes, I know.”

“Why’ve you never said anything?” Draco said into his lap.

Madame Pomfrey sighed. “Because patient confidentiality exists, and if he doesn’t want me to tell anyone about his injuries, I am not allowed to. It’s as simple as that.”

George and Draco looked like they wanted to argue, but they didn’t say anything. The three of them watched silently as Madame Pomfrey pulled her wand out of her pocket and began to heal the cut above Professor Weasley’s eye. George took his broken glasses and muttered a charm Hermione had used on Harry’s own glasses on their first ever train ride to Hogwarts, but, when he put them back on his face, they didn’t make him look much better.

Then she lifted his arm off of the floor, and Harry grimaced when he saw that his elbow was facing the wrong way. “It’s a simple fracture,” she said, and Draco looked slightly relieved. “It should be easy to fix once I get him back to the hospital wing. Much easier than re-growing bones, anyway.”

Harry saw the way she was looking at him, remembered the incident when Professor Lockheart had removed all of the bones in his arm by accident, and tried to smile.

Madame Pomfrey conjured up a stretcher and strapped Professor Weasley onto it so he hovered in midair, his arm cradled to his chest in a sling. He was still unconscious, his eyes closed like he was asleep.

When Harry looked again, however, he didn’t see Professor Weasley as asleep; what with the blood and the bruising and the fact he was perfectly still, it looked like he was dead. And that made him feel so sick that he had to run into the toilets to throw up.

\---

As the clock was chiming nine o’clock, the rest of the Malfoy-Weasley children arrived in the hospital wing, followed by Professor McGonagall. Fred and Ron went and stood next to their twins, and Ginny smiled weakly at Harry.

“How is he, Poppy?” Professor McGonagall asked Madame Pomfrey, who bustled over from the other side of the room.

“He’s stable,” she said. “I’ve fixed his injuries and he should regain consciousness within the next hour or so.”

“Do you know how he was hurt?”

Madame Pomfrey looked at Harry, Draco and George. “Well, he _said_ he tripped and fell over, didn’t he, Potter?” Harry nodded.

Professor McGonagall frowned, but she seemed to understand what Madame Pomfrey was implying.

Then Professor McGonagall gave Professor Weasley’s unconscious form a sad smile, and left the hospital wing.

“Was it . . .?” Fred said as soon as she had gone, and George nodded.

“Was it what?” Ron and Ginny both said, Ginny sounding close to tears.

George sighed. “It’s a long story.”

Harry watched them all crowd around the bed, listening intently to George, but he didn’t go and join them. Instead, he strode out of the medical wing to try and find Professor Malfoy, wanting to tell him exactly what he thought of him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Harry!”

“Wait up!”

Harry stopped walking and looked over his shoulder. He was shaking with rage, and felt quite sick. He saw Draco and Ron hurtling up the corridor after him. Seeing Ron surprised him; they were friends, but they barely spoke now they were in different houses. When they reached him, they both grabbed his arms, stopping him from moving.

“What’re you doing?” Ron babbled.

Harry didn’t see the point in lying. “I’m going to find Professor Malfoy to tell him what I think of him.” He said, trying to stop his voice shaking with the anger he was barely suppressing.

“But there’s no point,” Draco said, sounding like he was pleading with him. His face was so pale that it clashed horribly with his light red hair.

Harry frowned. “There’s no point defending him—” He started, but Ron cut him off.

“We’re not defending him, Harry,” he said, looking pissed off that he would even suggest that.

“Then why can’t I see him?”

“Because Professor Dumbledore has already sent for some blokes from the ministry, and they’ve taken Dad.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He looked at Ron, and wasn’t sure how his friend was feeling. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve only just arrived, haven’t I? Professor McGonagall told me and Ginny and Fred on the way here.”

Harry sighed. That made sense. “I just wanted to tell him what I think of him.”

Draco nodded. “I know what you mean, Potter, I wouldn’t’ve minded telling dad a few things myself.”

“And me,” Ron added. “I’m so angry with him. I can’t believe he’s done this.”

“I can’t believe everyone’s kept it from us for all this time,” Draco said, and Ron nodded furiously.

They were speaking in rather calm voices, but their hands were shaking, and they both looked like they were going to break down any minute.

“Do you think he’ll go to Azkaban?”

Draco shrugged, but there was a hint of panic in his eyes. “Who knows?”

Somehow, Harry knew this was a touchy subject, and he didn’t want to press them. But part of him wished that Mr Malfoy would go to Azkaban, because he hated him with all his heart for what he had done to poor Mr Weasley.

Sighing, Harry let Draco and Ron lead him back into the hospital wing, wishing that he could have gone and seriously hurt Professor Malfoy.

\---

Harry was awoken in the middle of the night by a knocking on his dormitory door. He pulled his glasses on and pulled back the curtains around his bed, blinking blearily. Nobody visited them in the night. What was going on? Draco sat up too, but their roommates seemed to still be asleep. They really could sleep through anything.

“Who’s there?” Draco called, and, even though it was too dark for Harry to see his boyfriend’s face, the panic was audible in his voice.

The door creaked open, and Professor Snape poked his head into the room. He was holding his wand out in front of him, bathing the room in white light. Now they were light, Harry could see how scared Draco looked, and, to his amusement, he saw that Professor Snape was still in his pyjamas, and looked half asleep.

“Madame Pomfrey wanted you to know, Malfoy-Weasley, that your father has taken a turn for the worse, and is being transferred to St Mungo’s.”

“What?” Draco gasped.

For once, Professor Snape looked quite sympathetic; even though Harry and Draco were members of his house, and, therefore, his favourites, he wsa still incredibly strict with them. But now . . . he actually looked concerned. Harry was amazed.

“I need you to come with me,” Snape said.

Draco jumped out of bed, and pulled his cloak on over his pyjamas and slipped his shoes on. Without thinking, Harry got up too, and then he froze, looking over at Snape, expecting to get yelled at like he always did (usually with the phrase: “I said Malfoy-Weasley, not you, Potter. You two aren’t stuck together, you can do things apart, you know”). But then the strangest thing happened: Snape _smiled._ He actually smiled.

“You too, Potter,” he said.

“Really?”

Snape nodded. “Yes. Professor Dumbledore insisted that you should be allowed to come too. As can Granger. I’m not entirely sure why.”

But Harry was. And it made him feel unreasonably happy to realise that Professor Weasley obviously thought of him and Hermione as his children too.

Once they were dressed, they followed Professor Snape into the common room, where they found George shivering even though he had his cloak wrapped tightly around himself. Snape led the three of them through the school, and they eventually found themselves in Professor Dumbledore’s office. Harry had never been in here before, but he was too stressed and tired to pay attention to all of the fascinating things in here. Instead, his eyes focused on Fred, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, who all looked as dreadful as he felt. Ginny was in tears, crying into Fred’s chest, and Hermione kept wiping her eyes with a screwed up tissue.

“Ah, you’re all here now,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll let Madame Pomfrey explain what has happened.”

For the first time, Harry noticed Madame Pomfrey. She walked over from the fire, and handed each of the students a piece of chocolate. Obediently, Harry chewed on it, but it just made him feel sick. Draco seemed to be having the same problem.

“As you all know,” she said. “Professor Weasley was very badly injured earlier. And I did my best to heal his injuries, but then . . . I found a lot of partially and badly healed injures that showed he has not been to see me as often as he should have, and I don’t possess the ability to fix these, so we have sent him by Floo network to St Mungo’s.”

“We felt that we ought to tell you,” Dumbledore added. “This really does make his situation a lot more serious. Which is why you are here?”

“Are we going to be allowed to see him? Hermione asked thickly. She seemed to be the only one who was capable of speech at the moment.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes. I have a good friend at St Mungo’s who will escort you to Professor Weasley once you arrive. You will be taking the Floo network.”

As he spoke, he threw a handful of poweder into the fire, and it turned green. “Are you all ready?”

Everyone nodded. Fred and George went first, and then it was Harry and Draco’s turn. Harry took Draco’s hand, knowing he needed to be strong for his boyfriend’s sake, and walked towards the fire.

\---

Harry had never been to St Mungo’s before. He’d heard about it from Draco and George, both of whom had been there when they fell off of Charlie’s broom in their garden and broke several bones when they were very young, but, luckily, he had never ended up in there himself. Once he had gotten over the dizziness from travelling by Floo Powder, Harry founf himself staring at anything and everything as he wandered through the hospital, amazed by what he saw.

When they found Mr Weasley’s ward, the Malfoy-Weasleys, Harry and Hermione made their way down the ward, until they found Mr Weasley’s bed. He was still unconscious, and still looked dreadful. Ginny started crying even louder, and George wiped at his eyes when he clearly thought that nobody was looking.

They all settled in the chairs around the bed, and just looked at him. Harry felt Draco rest his head on his shoulder, and he heard healers talking to them, but he didn’t really take any of it in. Nothing felt real, and he was just so tired . . .

At some point, Harry nodded off, and was only woken up by Hermione’s screeching voice as she shouted something, for some reason sounding very happy considering where they were. He opened his eyes just in time to see her jump out of her seat.

“Dad!” Hermione yelled, and she ran down the ward and flung herself into the arms of a man who was suddenly standing just inside the doorway. It immediately occurred to Harry that this man must have been one of her fathers.

He leaned back in his seat to get a better look at the two men, and he suddenly realised who they were. Sirius Black, a man Harry recognised from a photograph in his parents’ photo album Hagrid had given him, was hugging Hermione like he couldn’t let go, and was stood beside another man, presumably Remus Lupin, Hermione’s other dad. Sirius was horribly thin, with a grey face and a dulled look to his tired eyes, and Remus didn’t look much better; dressed in patched robes and with prematurely greying hair and scratches all over his face, he looked just as ill as his partner. They both looked stressed and anxious, but were smiling fondly at their daughter.

Harry found himself letting go of Draco’s hand and getting to his feet, and wandered over to the Lupin-Blacks, wondering whether he should introduce himself.

Hermione wouldn’t let go of Sirius, who was stroking her hair and hugging her back, and it suddenly occurred to Harry that this must have been the first time she had seen him since he got out of prison. She had been the same age Harry had been when his parents died, and he was surprised to see that Hermione even recognised Sirius, especially considering how emaciated he looked.

Remus looked up from his daughter and smiled at Harry. He stepped forward and held out his hand. Harry shook it, smiling politely.

“Hello, Harry,” He said, and Harry didn’t bother to ask how he knew his name.

“Hello.” Harry said, realising that he had seen Remus in the photograph too. He had looked just as ill then, and was sporting the same sort of scratches across his cheeks.

“How are you?”

Harry shrugged, thinking about Draco’s fathers. “I’ve been better.”

Remus smiled like he understood he has just asked a rather stupid question. “How’s Arthur?”

It took Harry a few seconds to realise who Remus was talking about. “Mr Weasley? Not good.”

Remus frowned, and started chewing on his lip. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I’ll show you.”

Leaving Hermione with Sirius, Harry led Remus down the ward to where Mr Weasley was lying, unconscious, in a hospital bed. Remus took in his injuries, the bandages, and the faces of his children, and made a low groaning noise, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile, but it looked horribly strained.

“Hello,” he said to Ginny. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Remus Lupin, Hermione’s dad.”

Ginny smiled weakly. Like Ron and Draco, she still seemed to be in shock. Unlike Ron and Draco, however she didn’t seem angry about being kept in the dark; she just seemed hurt. She went back to staring at her dad’s face, her eyes shining.

Remus then introduced himself to Fred and George, who were still horribly pale, Draco, who had taken hold of Harry’s hand (Remus didn’t seem bothered by it, which made Harry feel a little better), and Ron, before leaning right over Mr Weasley and taking a closer look at his injuries. He groaned again.

“His injuries this time weren’t that severe, you know,” Fred said, his voice flat. Remus frowned again, but he didn’t say anything.

“Just a broken nose, three cracked ribs, several cuts and bruises and a black eye,” George added, his voice just as flat.

“But that’s not why he’s in here,” Fred continued, his eyes starting to shine. Ron put his hand on his shoulder.

“Madame Pomfrey did some checks on him,” George said, his bottom lip wobbling slightly.

Draco was squeezing Harry’s hand so hard his fingers had gone numb. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Hermione and Sirius were talking to each other, seemingly obvious to what was going on over here.

“And she found out that he had loads of injuries from months and even years ago that haven’t healed properly. Like broken bones that healed wonky because he never went and got it fixed, or really bad scarring, and things like that.”

“And she said he needed to come here and get them fixed, because she couldn’t do it.”

“And the worst thing,” Draco said, speaking up for the first time, his voice sounding much higher in pitch than normal, “is that he clearly didn’t go to Madame Pomfrey every time, and suffered through weeks of broken bones without getting them fixed.”

“No,” Ron said, his voice shaking. “The worst thing is that this has been happening a lot more than we thought.”

Harry looked at Remus, and he could have sworn that he looked like he wanted to cry.

“Domestic violence?” Remus said. Only Harry seemed to understand his words, and he wondered if this was a phrase wizards didn’t tend to use.

Harry nodded. Remus bit down hard on his lip, and then went over to Hermione and Sirius. Harry didn’t hear what they said to each other.

“What’s ‘domestic violence’?” Ginny squeaked.

Harry sighed. “It’s a phrase Muggles use a lot more than us, and it basically means a person beating up their partner.”

“Fucking hell,” Fred said.

“What do you think’s going to happen to dad?” Draco suddenly said.

“I don’t care,” George said, and his twin nodded violently. “I only care about what happens to Papa. He’s more important right now.”

Harry had to agree with him.


End file.
